


Like a Heartbeat Drives You Mad

by indevan



Series: Rock Band AU [3]
Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Alternate Universe - Rock Band, F/F, Falling In Love, Jealousy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-30
Updated: 2017-07-30
Packaged: 2018-12-08 18:12:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11651967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indevan/pseuds/indevan
Summary: From behind her set, Caulifla can’t help but watch Kale.  She sees her mouth move along with the words to their songs but she can’t hear her voice.  Not like she did out in the parking lot for Broly.  And what’s with him anyway?  He walks around all tall and sullen, barely speaking to anyone and yet Kale sang for him.  She never sings for her.





	Like a Heartbeat Drives You Mad

**Author's Note:**

> i have zero chill so here's another fic from a future point in time of this AU

“Where’s Kale?”

She doesn’t mean for it to sound like a demand but it does.  Cabba looks at her like he’s one of those kidnapper guys and she’s on the other end of the phone, telling him about her certain set of skills that will allow her to find him and kill him.

“I don’t know,” he says finally. “Probably with that dude from Apetail.”

Caulifla was afraid of that.  Ever since this whole tour began, Kale’s been spending way too much time with Apetail’s...keyboardist?  She actually isn’t sure how to classify him since he plays so many different instruments.  He and Kale apparently have a shared love for Pokemon and she’s seen them sitting on amps, knees touching, a they face each other in a fierce battle.  She isn’t sure how to feel about it and she doesn’t know why.  Caulifla always knows how to feel--she’s always completely certain of her every thought and decision even when others tell her that it’s wrong.

“Well, let’s go find her.  I need to make the setlist for tonight.”

Cabba looks at her skeptically, which is fair considering that they use almost the exact same setlist every night.  More than that, Cabba just knows her.  He’s been her friend since they were toddlertots, running around in his backyard while their moms sat on the patio and talked about the two of them getting married one day.

Wisely, he says nothing and agrees to her search.  The place they’re playing tonight is a squat, beige building situated among a bunch of other squat, beige buildings.  It doesn’t offer a large backstage area, which is shitty for four bands trying to perform in one night.

Because of this, it’s easy enough to find Kale.  She and that guy are squirreled away among all of the instrument cases and sound equipment like it’s their own fort.  He has an acoustic guitar resting on his lap and it’s the first time Caulifla’s ever seen him play one.  She assumed that he could but Apetail has two guitarists so she figures that there’s no reason for him to ever play it.  Kale sits next to him, her eyes closed as she sings.

_“Now here I go again, I see crystal visions…”_

Her voice catches Caulifla off-guard.  Kale sings backup on most of their songs but Caulifla’s never actually heard her by herself.  Her voice is earthy and hauntingly beautiful.

_“I keep my visions to myself, it’s only me…”_

The guy from Apetail has his eyes closed, too, as he plays along.  They sound really good together and Caulifla’s chest clenches in a way she doesn’t understand.  She grabs Cabba’s arm and drags him away before either of them are spotted.  As they retreat back into the building itself, she can still here the mournful strumming of the guitar and Kale’s voice.

“She’s really good,” Cabba says, stating the obvious.

Caulifla nods, distracted.

“I had no idea,” he continues. “And with the guitar, it sounds really nice.”

Something is building in her chest.  It’s a pressure against her breastbone, choking her.  She knows what’s going to happen--eruption.

“They’re sleeping together!” she snaps.

Cabba quirks a brow but says nothing.  He’s used to her outbursts, to her jumping to conclusions.  But what other conclusion could she jump to?  Kale is out there with that guy, with _Broly,_ singing her heart out to a Fleetwood Mac song.  There’s nothing more romantic than that!

“I dunno--”

“And he’s, like, twenty-three!  And she’s eighteen!  What an asshole!”

The three of them are the youngest ones on this tour, the youngest ones signed, and usually that instills in her a sense of pride but now she’s just mad.  Those fucks in Apetail.  They just think they can go for anyone, can’t they?

“I don’t think they’re sleeping together…” Cabba says.

“Oh, come on.  He’s just like everyone else in that band.”

He sighs, already shifting into his eternal role as her minder.  The one who calms her down.

“They’re not that bad.”

She narrows her eyes.

“You’re just saying that because you want their guitarist to eat you.”

Cabba’s eyes fly wide open and he whips his head around as if afraid someone might overhear.

“I do not!”

“You do so!  You take one look at him and go into heat.” To punctuate her statement, she pants like a dog.

He sighs.

“It’s not like that.  I just really look up to him,” he says. “Vegeta’s what I want to be as a guitarist and that weaving thing he does with Kakarrot or Goku or whatever they call him is _so cool.”_

She rolls her eyes. “Sure, Cabba.”

He waves a hand dismissively and lets out another sigh, this one more exasperated than the last.

“Whatever.  You’re just freaking out about Kale hanging out with Broly and taking it out on me.”

“Shut up, no I’m not.”

“And you don’t get it because you don’t look up to anyone.”

She scowls and folds her arms over her chest.  The guys from Kame Kami come in around them, carting their gear.  As they pass, Caulifla high fives their guitarist, Yamcha.  Now them, she likes.  They’re all like cool, big brother types even if Tien and Piccolo are more of the sullen, stoic variety.

“I look up to Lori Barbero,” she says, “And Keith Moon, Rachel Blumberg...Meg White...like, I look up to people, okay?”

Cabba smirks and she hates when he gets all smug.

“Again, you’re deflecting.”

“And you need to…” She lets out a frustrated cry. “Just shut up, Cabba.”

\--

They’ve played better shows.  From behind her set, Caulifla can’t help but watch Kale.  She sees her mouth move along with the words to their songs but she can’t hear her voice.  Not like she did out in the parking lot for _Broly._  And what’s with him anyway?  He walks around all tall and sullen, barely speaking to anyone and yet Kale sang for _him._  She never sings for her.

She misses a few beats and flubs some lines but no one seems to notice.  Their group is starting to make some headway.  She knows they’re talented but she also knows that they were lucky to get this tour.  They’re five years younger than everyone else, at least, and the most recent band King Kai had signed.  They don’t have an album out and people barely know their name (and, god, how she wishes now they had a better name than U6).

Caulifla acknowledges the applause and steps off.  That big, burly roadie who travels around with Apetail and acts like a combination chaperone and bodyguard comes on with a few guys hired by King Kai to set up for the next group.  It’d be easier to share but she’s seen how Raditz plays drums and she doesn’t want him beating up on her kit.

Kale is talking to Broly and her chest clenches again.  She high fives him before he goes on and what does _that_ mean?

Caulifla doesn’t want to stick around for their show but Kale and Cabba are watching and who’s she going to hang out with other than them?

She refuses to watch, though.  She actually likes Apetail’s music but she doesn’t like _them._  The only one she sort of likes is Turles because he’s a good time.  He showed her how to get high on whippets and, at a rest stop somewhere in Delaware, he pierced her septum for her.

That night, they actually get the luxury of staying in a motel.  It’s called the Friendly Village Inn Motel (both an inn and a motel?) and it looks like a place where someone goes to get murdered.  Caulifla lies in the same bed as Kale and feels--off.  She isn’t sure why she feels this way.  Is it jealousy?  Jealous of _what?_

The air conditioner rumbles loudly as it kicks on and she stares at the water stains on the ceiling.  There’s sounds of a party outside, which means one of the other groups is probably staying here as well.  They come together for shows but mostly they’re on their own otherwise.  They’ll maybe bump into each other in a restaurant or rest stop but that’s most of the contact until they reach whatever venue they’re playing.

Cabba has the other bed to himself and she watches him sleep enviously.  He clutches his pillow to his chest and is starting to mumble.  Caulifla’s been having sleepovers at his house since she was four and she knows he’s about to start talking in his sleep.  He always mutters something from whatever dream he’s having, leaving her to piece together what’s going on in them.

He rolls over on top of his pillow and buries his face in it.

“Mmm,” he mumbles. “Don’t stop--Vegeta, please…”

Caulifla puts a hand over her mouth in a preemptive strike against impending laughter.

“‘I just look up to him as a guitarist’ my ass,” she whispers.

No one stirs at the sound of her words and she turns over.  Kale’s dark hair spills over her pillow and her hands are balled in loose fists near her face.  She wishes she could piece together this weird, unsettling feeling about seeing her and Broly together.  Even if they aren’t sleeping together, that she would sing for him and not them--not _her._  It’s not fair!

She kicks the sheets off, careful not to disturb Kale, and walks out of the room barefoot.  She shoves her key into the strap of her tank top and pads towards the pool where the ruckus is.  The motel surrounds it and the pool glows with alien light as she approaches.

As she suspected, one of the other groups is at the motel and, as luck would have it, it’s _them._  She scowls.  Of course Apetail is the other band staying here.  They can’t just hop in their nasty, crusty old van and drive off.  They’re throwing each other in the pool and whooping and screaming.  That big, bald guy is sitting on a hard, cracked plastic lounge chair, playing lifeguard while drinking a beer.

Broly’s by himself, sitting on the edge of another lounge chair, curled up and making himself look much smaller than he is.  Caulifla glares at him, hating him for taking Kale away from her.  If she were mature, she would ignore this entire escapade and go back to their room, but she’s not, so she walks and sits cross-legged on the chaise next to him.

He acknowledges her with an incline of his head and then turns to watch the others.  Vegeta stands on the edge of the pool, drinking Stoli straight from the bottle.  Kakarrot runs up behind him and pulls down his boxers and he immediately starts giving chase.  Part of her wishes she’d brought her phone out to take a picture.  Cabba would love a shot of his bare ass.

“He’s going through issues,” Broly says and she’s surprised he’s even talking to her.

“Aren’t we all?” she shoots back.

He shrugs. “There was a girl back home and, I dunno, they split and he’s been really messed up ever since.  More than usual.”

Admittedly, she doesn’t care.  It sucks whatever Vegeta’s going through but she isn’t sure why Broly’s telling her.  She feels like she has to say something, though, because he’s started talking to her.  She wants to say “Well, that’s rough” but, as is often the case, her mouth and her brain have a disconnect.

“What’s going on with you and Kale?”

Broly shuts one eye and looks at her owlishly, the supernaturally blue light from the pool rippling over his face.

“I’m gay.”

Immediately, she feels foolish and immature and _jealous_ and she still doesn’t know why.

Caulifla swallows, not sure what to say except, “Oh.  Me too.”

“Kale and I are friends,” he continues. “We have.  A lot in common.”

She doesn’t mention Pokemon but she isn’t sure what else they have in common.  She thinks of Kale’s situation with her parents and finds herself hoping that Broly’s isn’t similar.  She doesn’t particularly _like_ him but she wouldn’t wish that on anyone.

Back at the pool, Kakarrot flips up and does back handspring into the water.  Turles and Raditz are taking turns dunking each other under the water and each one looks more vicious and real than the last.  Caulifla sneaks a gaze to Baldy to see if he’s going to intervene.  At Kakarrot’s entrance, she sees Broly’s lip curl.

“Do you not like him?”

He shrugs.

“Sorta.  It’s kind of a habit.”

It’s the most she’s ever heard Broly speak and the realization is surprising.

“A habit?”

He shrugs again.

“We have the same birthday and we’d be in the same class in elementary school a lot and.” He shakes his head. “Kakarrot would bring in those little donut hole things?  From Dunkin?  He’d bring them in for the class and I wouldn’t have anything so they’d pay attention to him.”

Caulifla stares at him.

“And that’s why you hated him?”

Broly looks away and she wonders if she upset him.  Honestly, she doesn’t know the guy but if he hangs around guys like Turles or Vegeta willingly, he probably has thicker skin than it’d seem.

“I said it was a habit.  It’s kind of just an irritation now, I guess.  He’s a likeable guy.”

He says it almost as if it’s an insult and Caulifla finds herself giving a little smile.  Admittedly, knowing he’s gay and not interested in Kale has improved her opinion of him.

“He has a kid,” Broly continues.

“Who?”

“Kakarrot.”

She widens her eyes.  He has a _kid?_  She knows that the guys in Apetail are all four, five years older than them but being in your early twenties and being a _parent_ are two completely separate things.  And Kakarrot of all people?

“But he peed in a trashcan,” she whispers.

Broly closes his eyes. “I know.”

She leaves him after that, not sure what else to say.  Broly gives a little wave and she gives one back.  When she’s back in their room, in the bed next to Kale, she resumes staring at the ceiling.  Too many thoughts are jumbling together at once but the one that keeps coming back to her is the relief that Broly and Kale aren’t involved and the way her heart jumps when she thinks about it.

\--

They’re on the highway when it hits her.  She wants to hear Kale sing again.  That’s totally what her jealousy is about!  Kale will sing for some rando but she’s worried about singing for her.  Caulifla sighs in relief and sags in her seat.  Cabba notices this and cocks a brow, but she chooses to ignore him.

They’re on the one bus provided to them by the label since they’re the only band without any sort of transportation.  It’s a broken down husk of a thing and every mile the wheels eat up seem to bring it closer to its inevitable death.

She turns her gaze to Kale, who’s hunched over her DS, playing Pokemon with the precision of a surgeon.  The bang that hangs over her eye keeps falling down and Caulifla is possessed with the urge to tuck it behind her ear and she isn’t sure why.

Caulifla looks away, back out the window, at the lack of view.  It’s nothing but the blur of trees and flat, gray road.  Even if she looks down to see the other cars, there’s not much to look at.  Cabba has his headphones in and Kale is playing her game, it’s too quiet.  She feels itchy in her skin and she hates it.

She crawls across the aisle to Kale’s seat despite herself and taps her on her shoulder.  Kale starts but then relaxes when she sees who it is.

“Hi,” she says in that quiet, sweet way of hers.

“Hey,” Caulifla says back. “I’m bored.”

“Oh.  Um.  I’m sorry.  Do you want to play?” She holds up her DS and Caulifla shakes her head.

She isn’t sure what she wants, really.  It’s that uncertainty again that she really, really hates.  No, more than that, something that’s been bugging her since she walked in on Broly and Kale’s little jam session.  She knows she wants to hear her sing again but there’s a niggling suspicion that isn’t _just_ that.

She manages to keep quiet about it until they stop at a convenience store.  Kale’s buying some Twizzlers and Cabba is filling up one of those monstrously large Slushie cups and Caulifla is--standing there.  She thinks about buying a pack of cigarettes but she just stands in one of the short aisles staring at the bags of chips as if they’re going to give her the answers she’s looking for.

“Are you okay?”

Kale sounds worried and Caulifla turns to tell her that she’s fine but the words catch in her throat before she can say them.  The lights in the store are harsh and weird and all of them could use some sleep but somehow Kale looks otherworldly and beautiful.  Her hair is in that messy ponytail that bops around when she plays bass and she’s close enough for Caulifla to smell her watermelon chapstick and she wonders how it tastes.

It hits her all at once and everything makes sense.  She likes Kale.  She _likes_ Kale.  Her jealousy over her friendship with Broly had been just that: _jealousy._  She is a girl with a crush on her friend and she’s apparently every adolescent (or post-adolescent as the case may be) lesbian cliché.

“Super!” she says far too loudly and then, “I’m going to buy cigarettes!”

Kale’s brow furrows. “Um...okay.”

\--

Caulifla knows she has to put aside her feelings for Kale for the sake of the band.  Inter-band relationships never work and she doesn’t want to break up what they have before they can even start.  More than that, she isn’t even sure if Kale likes her back.  Why would she put their friendship and the _band_ in jeopardy if she does know for sure?

Tonight they’re playing at a place called The Coffin that used to be a mortician’s office.  It still smells faintly like formaldehyde and fake lavender.  The owner is the original owner’s son who wants to run a punk club and there’s black candles and gargoyles on the walls.

“I feel like I’m going to accidentally pull on one of these gargoyles and the wall’ll spin around like Scooby Doo,” Yamcha says.  He taps his hands on his guitar case and hums a few bars of the theme.

Krillin shudders. “Stop that.”

Turles leans in really close and says, “I wonder if there are still any bodies here.”

Caulifla wrinkles her nose.  There’s too many boys and they’re playing last tonight.  It’s a shitty position because even though they close out the show, the three of them have to go onstage and awkwardly tune and sound check because there’s _no time_ and the crowd is bored.  She looks at Lazuli who stands cool as a cucumber with her brother and she kind of wishes she could have her composure.  Maybe it’s something that’ll happen to her once she hits her twenties.

“You don’t think there are any bodies still here, right?”

Kale’s behind her, sweet-smelling, Twizzler breath against her ear.  She’s holding her shoulders loosely, her eyes wide with fear.

“Nah,” Caulifla assures her. “Turles is a dick.”

She doesn’t look convinced so she takes her outside for some air.  Crush or no crush, she always has to look out for her best girl.  It’s quiet behind the club and the air is starting to cool with the promise of dusk.  None of them are on until it’s fully night--doors don’t even open until eight--but King Kai insists they get here early.  For what, she isn’t sure.  They never have time to do anything before they’re ushered onstage.

“Hey, so...I saw you with Broly the other day,” she says. “Singing.”

Kale’s eyes go wide as dinner plates.

“You saw me.” She shakes her head. “You _heard_ me?”

Caulifla nods.

“You were amazing, Kale!  How come you never showed us that?”

She means, _How come you never showed_ me _that,_ but she doesn’t say it out loud.  Kale is blushing--she can tell even in the bright gloom of the setting sun--and she looks away.

“I’m too embarrassed to sing around you or Cabba.”

That bugs her.

“But you’ll sing for Broly?  Do our opinions matter less?”

She shakes her head.

“They matter _more.”_

_Oh._

Caulifla isn’t sure what to say about that so instead she says, “Can you sing for me now?  You’re really good, Kale, I heard you.”

Kale bites her lip. “I don’t know.”

“Sing Fleetwood Mac again,” she presses on. “Please?”

Caulifla sees her wring her hands and she thinks she’s going to make that little squeaking noise that always comes before she runs away but instead, she opens her mouth and begins to sing.

_“I took my love, I took it down...I climbed a mountain and I turned around…”_

Kale sings through the whole first verse, her voice strong and unwavering.  Even without accompaniment, she sounds just as haunting as she did the other day.  She finishes the chorus and ends it by biting her lip.  Caulifla stares at her in the setting sun, unable to believe it.  When she sings, Kale transforms.  She’s always cute but listening to the way she forms the words, she’s nothing short of beautiful.  It’s then that she knows that this isn’t just a crush.  This is love.  This is love and she doesn’t know what to do about it.

**Author's Note:**

> vertigoats.tumblr.com


End file.
